King Me
by Tala Mitena
Summary: Accessory to Fairy Tale Ending and And So It Goes. Oneshot. In which happiness and crowns are regained. RS.


Author's Note: Okay, so…I promised myself I wouldn't do this, and would just let bygones be bygones and all those other lovely clichés. But…I couldn't help myself. I've kind of become fascinated by this little world I've created for Riku and Sora and Squall (and Cloud…). So, I had to return to it at least once more with this little treasure. Who knows…maybe Squall and Cloud will get their own little one-shot as well. Maybe…

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is not mine.

King Me

_A "Fairy Tale Ending" accessory._

It feels familiar, being wrapped in Riku's arms, twisting fingers in his filigree hair and pressing kisses against his sweet lips. It feels familiar, and it feels right, and Sora can't get enough of it. He feels unworthy of it, after everything he did, but he can't get enough of it.

Smiling, and laughing softly, he buries his face in the crook of Riku's neck as the older boy presses kisses along the brunette's shoulder.

"Sora," he whispers softly.

"Ri-ku," Sora sings in response.

Silence curls in the few, small spaces between their tangled limbs and clutching hands and it is warm and tender and they love it, until it is broken by their bright laughter. When laughter fades, Sora lifts his head and rubs his nose along Riku's cheekbone before scrunching it up with a wide grin and Eskimo-kissing the older boy. Riku places a real kiss against his lover's temple and smiles silently as their eyes meet.

They both know what he is saying with his jewelry eyes and his smile.

"Thank you. Thank you for coming back," he says, without speaking, and Sora tries to keep his own smile from faltering.

They never talk about it, never acknowledge it. But, it is still there and, oh, how it haunts them, lurking in shadowy corners and in unguarded expressions that flicker briefly across pensive faces.

Sora wonders if they will ever forget, or if it will always hover over them, sneering and snickering and _supposedly_ unseen. Sora wonders this, and he hopes and prays that one day they will forget and he will no longer feel tiny pricks of guilt behind the pleasure that springs up under Riku's roaming fingers.

"Checkers!" he cries, sitting up and pushing that haunting thing further up into the rafters.

"What?" Riku says laughingly, pulling the boy back towards him and smothering him with quick, sloppy kisses.

"I want to play checkers!" Sora chirps, wiping away Riku's kisses and Riku revels in his cheerfulness. This is the Sora he loves most, the Sora from when they ruled the world, from before he stopped rambling and toppled their pretty little crowns off of their sorrowful little heads.

"Do we have checkers?" he asks, still smiling at the boy as Sora picks up his hand and traces the lines of his palm, nodding enthusiastically.

"I think there's a set in my closet."

Riku presses a kiss against Sora's forehead before pushing him playfully out of bed.

"Go get it then," he says, fingers leaving Sora's reluctantly as the boy pads away, rolling a blanket around his lithe frame. He doesn't like not being able to see Sora, to touch him, to have proof that he is real and proof that he is here, that he is back.

Sora walks down the hallway, feet slapping against the cold, gleaming hardwood floors and he sighs. He is letting that thing haunt him. That little demon from the rafters has jumped down and is perching on his shoulder, whispering in his ear with hot breath and hissing tongue.

_You don't deserve him_, it says.

You don't deserve him, and you never did. Lies, Sora. You told him lies and you ran away. You don't deserve him.

Sora sighs once more and pouts like a small child.

This thing that haunts him, he hates it.

"Yes I do," he whispers, though it is mostly to himself, and he takes comfort in the fact that he is not lying. If Riku thinks he is worthy, then it must be so.

The brunette stops in front of a closed door. He has not opened that door in months, has not seen this room, and yet he remembers it perfectly. It is messy, floor littered with dirty clothes, though it is clearer than it was once upon a time, and this is Sora's fault. This is Sora's fault, because he left and he brought the garments and knick-knacks that covered the floor with him. They are back now, all of them – Sora and the garments and the knick-knacks – but they have not seen this room in months.

Smiling, he remembers perfectly why he has not seen it. This room was never used much, anyway. And, still smiling, he remembers perfectly how it looked, which thing was where on his messy floor, and the exact folds of the sheets he had rolled out of after washing away the mud that had covered his body that fateful day.

He pushes the door open quietly and walks across the floor, picking around the piles of clothes, and makes his way to the closet.

But, halfway there, something stops him. Something halts him, mid-step, before sending him stumbling backwards.

His heart plummets towards the ground, where it lands with a _splat_ and is crushed and bleeding. His breath catches and his throat and lungs scream for air as his eyes widen and he stares.

There, by his bed, is a shirt that is too large to be his, and curled next to it like a snake, waiting to strike and poison him with doubt and jealousy, is a studded leather belt.

Sora is stunned, to say the least. That shirt, and that belt, can only possibly belong to one person. The belt is foreign to this house, neither he nor Riku have ever worn anything similar to it. And that shirt? Too large to be his own, and too plain, too commonplace and low-class to be Riku's.

They belong to Squall. This, Sora knows for sure, and this Sora despises.

This confirms what Sora had believed all along, what Sora had long ago accepted as fact and past and forgettable. But this changes everything.

Squall…and Riku…they…_here._ In _his_ room. On _his_ bed.

For a long while, he stares, and tries not to picture the scene, tries not to focus on imaginations. Despite this, he cannot help but see the strong limbs that intertwine, the tensed muscles and the heated gazes and the grabbing fingers and sweat-soaked hair.

He can hear the pleading whispers and the hazy, husky moans and gasps of pleasure. He can feel the sweat and the heat and the heavy air and he feels nauseous and places a trembling hand over his mouth, silently cursing the room.

Sora hears his name called from the doorway and bites back tears, worrying his lower lip until it tastes metallic with waiting blood.

"Sora," Riku repeats softly, "what's taking so long?" He places a concerned hand on Sora's shoulder, frowning as the boy winces and contemplates pulling away, twisting out of his lover's grasp.

Aqua eyes narrow in confusion and follow Sora's gaze, landing on the poised snake and widening suddenly, before he can suppress his reaction and force a smile.

"You…you've really got me wanting to play now," he says, voice cracking. He hopes that Sora does not notice.

He doesn't. Sora is too busy waiting for the snake to bite.

"Sora?" Riku slides his arms around the boy's waist and places a kiss at the nape of his neck after pushing cinnamon locks away.

Something inside Sora snaps back into place and he shakes away his thoughts and blinds himself to the fangs of the shirt and the belt.

"Sorry," he murmurs with a smile, clasping Riku's hands in his own and giving them two quick squeezes before slipping away to fetch the checkerboard. On his way to the closet, he kicks the offending garment and it's accessory-accomplice under the bed, which he does not plan on using ever again.

There they will sit and wait to be remembered, chanting doubts in unison with the demon in the rafters.

When Sora returns with the board, Riku wraps an arm around his shoulder and smiles.

Riku was always much better at forgetting, or, at least, pretending to have forgotten.

But in that smile, Sora finds something, and he realizes that their crowns have been regained.

Though, it would seem they now sit slightly askew.


End file.
